


Perfect Words and Perfect People

by GinnyBadWolf



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: A little bit of Marichat, Angst, Angsty Identity Reveal, But not angst and fluff cause they're kinda separate, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyBadWolf/pseuds/GinnyBadWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each person in the world has flaws - something that makes them special, and sets them apart. Ladybug is flawed, and it makes her beautiful. </p><p>Chat Noir knows this more than anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Words and Perfect People

Ladybug is the mask and Marinette is the person.

 

It only makes sense - Marinette is herself and has her own life as a civilian. Ladybug is only a part of herself that she dons as a cover.

 

Ladybug is cool, confident, smart, brave. Marinette is all of those things and more, as Tikki has told her. But the larger part of Marinette  _ is  _ Marinette - clumsy, shy, but kind. Marinette holds countless memories and feelings. Marinette is a whole person, with a personality to go with it. 

 

Ladybug is a detail in a grand painting. Marinette is happy with this. She is happy to be independent from Ladybug, to be more than just a mask. She is also happy to be Ladybug, and is happy to be a hero. Being Ladybug is a part of her life she loves and accepts, but it isn’t the main act. This is something she knows, accepts, and is glad about. Marinette is a largely content person. 

* * *

 

Adrien is the mask and Chat Noir is the person. 

 

It makes no sense - Chat Noir is just a superhero persona he's only had for a year. But Adrien’s civilian life is sad and lonely. Adrien is made of sadness and loneliness, but Chat Noir is the fresh start.

 

Chat Noir is cool, suave, funny, brave. Adrien is not. Adrien is the facade that traps it all inside. Adrien is the pretend mask of perfection he has worn all his life, and Chat Noir is his freedom. Chat Noir takes the darkness that hangs around his life like a black cloud and dons it as a cloak. Chat Noir is a new and whole person, with a new and whole personality to go with it. 

 

Chat Noir is the key to his cage.

 

Adrien’s cage is the perfection he must always live in. He must always look perfect. He must always model perfectly. His grades must be perfect. He must converse with others politely, perfectly. He must do all his extracurricular activities perfectly. He must represent his father perfectly. Perfect is the word he hates most in the world, but it is the word used to describe him so often.

 

Perfect: conforming absolutely to the description or definition of an ideal type. 

 

Adrien conforms to idealities. Adrien is weak.

 

Chat Noir does not conform. Chat Noir destroys idealities. Chat Noir is strong.

 

In his innermost core, Adrien is Chat Noir. But most of him is a fake mask, feigning perfection, cracking at the edges after years of carrying his own burdens. He cannot do it alone. But nobody is there to help him, because everyone thinks he is so perfect. So perfect he doesn't need help. 

 

It - well, to say it truthfully - it’s sad. It presses down on him, day after day, and when he thinks about it his stomach clenches and his heart throbs and his gaze averts to the ground and he instinctively curls in on himself. 

 

His best friend is Nino, but his best friend is also Ladybug. Nino has begun to dig away at Adrien’s layers and is reaching his core. But Ladybug... Ladybug has always had his innermost self. Whenever he’s around her, his secrets and his very soul are laid out for her. Ladybug is the one who owns him, his heart, and his soul. She knows him best, even if she barely knows anything about him. But it’s not the things  _ about  _ him that matter - it’s the things that are  _ him  _ that matter. And she knows  _ him  _ like no one else ever could. 

 

He wishes she could give him the same. He knows her, and knows her moods. He can tell by a glance at her sapphire blue eyes just what she’s feeling. But she has always shut parts of herself off, put up walls and blocked herself away from him. He desires, more than anything he’s ever known, to see that secret part of herself which is so coveted it is tucked away from eyesight. 

 

He wants her. She is so... so beautiful. She is a glory, something so brave and strong that she could never be taken down. She moves with grace, with speed, with agility. She treats others with a unique sort of kindness, even if it is unmerited. She does what’s right because she feels it is her responsibility. It’s mesmerizing, awe-inspiring,  _ beautiful.  _

 

She’s not perfect. Chat Noir - Adrien - understands this better than anyone else. Ladybug can be petty sometimes. She can get too angry, or too emotional, or too mean. She makes mistakes. But it’s what makes her Ladybug, and he only loves her more for it. 

 

He loves Ladybug, a feeling that reaches deeper than feelings. Looking at her feels like looking at the night sky, and her eyes are the brightest shining stars. She is made of constellations. She rains fire from the heavens. Sometimes she’s too dim to see or too bright to look at, or hidden behind the clouds, or impossible to discern among the rest of the night. 

 

But looking at her makes him feel lucky. He feels privileged to fight by her side, to even catch a moment of her attention. He’s content to spend his days loving her, endlessly. His love for her is a bottomless abyss. Chat Noir often wishes that she could love him back. He craves her love and her touch like he’s addicted to it. It’s maddening, his desire for her to love him in return, but if she doesn’t, it’s okay. That’s her own decision. As long as he can stay by her side.

 

She is his forever. For all of eternity, he will be devoted to her. If what they have is just a phase - if, someday in the future, she leaves him permanently - he’ll never forget her. He’ll always love her, through all his days. Every evening will remind him of her, no matter how old he grows.

* * *

 

 

The evening has come upon them late, a sign of the summer season approaching. Still, Ladybug and Chat Noir are out, gazing with pride on the city they have worked so hard to protect. Ladybug’s smile is soft and gentle. Her mouth is closed and her lips are twisted to the side a little. It makes her eyes sparkle a little more brightly. 

 

Chat Noir realizes that his gaze has shifted away from Paris, and his eyes wander over the soft slope of her petite nose, the plump shape of her lips, the freckles spotting her smooth cheeks... He almost lets out a love-struck sigh, and catches himself just before he swoons. 

 

They’re on the top of the Eiffel Tower. It’s become something of a habit for them to end their patrol here. Chat Noir loves how the night light illuminates her figure at this angle. He loves the comfortable silence that settles between them each evening that they spend here, content to relax in each other’s company. He hates that it ends. 

 

Ladybug lets out a small breath that sounds like a fragile sigh, and takes her elbows off the rail of the tower. “Alright, Chat Noir.” She says in her confident voice, and even just the way she speaks his name is enough to send shivers down his spine. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time for patrol.” She takes out her yo-yo and sends him a two-fingered salute. Chat Noir can predict what she’ll say - stay safe. But he doesn’t let her say it. 

 

Instead, he grabs her wrist. She looks back at him, surprise in her eyes. Her lips are pursed in confusion. “Chat Noir?” 

 

He doesn’t know what has driven him to do this. Tonight is no different than any other night, just as today has been no different than any other day. Today has been a normal, dull Thursday. But perhaps he can make it different. “My lady?” His voice is hesitant, and words that were meant to be a transition become a question. He plows on. “Could you... stay?” 

 

Her expression is skeptical, and her eyebrows furrow, but she makes no move to leave. “Don’t you want to get back to your civilian life?” The immediate answer is ‘no’, but it is not vocalized - no, it sits heavy on his tongue. 

 

There is no way Chat Noir wants to go back to being Adrien. He does not want to exit this moment. He doesn’t want to go back to the crushing pressure of being ‘perfect’. Ladybug’s life must be much better than his, if she’s alright with going back. 

 

The word is too heavy, and it slides out of his mouth. “No, I... I’d rather not.” She wriggles her wrist out of his grip, but does not leave. Instead, she goes back to where she stood before, but her attention is on him. It feels better, to have his lady’s eyes trained on him, rather than the whole world. 

She rests her hand on his shoulder, and Chat Noir thinks he must have died and gone to heaven. “Is something wrong?” 

 

Chat leans forward over Paris again, but her hand is still there, radiating warmth into his back. Since he has moved, her hand shifts between his raised shoulder blades, and Chat Noir could almost cry. He answers. “Nothing different than usual. Nothing particularly bad happened today, but nothing particularly good, either. And all of my regular problems are still there, just a second layer sitting there under me as I go through the motions, waiting to blow up in my face. They haven’t, not yet, but it’s exhausting and stressful to wait for it. And it’s just all been piling up, lately, like a weight I have to bear, and Chat Noir lets me run away from that. Maybe just for a little while. So, no, I don’t want to go back.” 

 

His eyes shift over the bright lights of Paris again, and he lets out a sigh and hangs his head. He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth, has he? Now he’s gotten too emotional and complex for his own good. Chat Noir isn’t sad. Chat Noir is liberated. This is a side of him Ladybug should not have to bear. 

 

Ladybug traces circles with her thumb in his back, and puts her other hand on his face. She turns his face to look at her. Butterflies whirl in his stomach, and goosebumps pop up all over his body just at her delicate touch. “You can talk to me, kitty cat. I trust you more than anyone else, and I think the same can be said for you. If there’s anything you want to say... you can tell me.”

 

Oh, if only it’s that simple. If only it’s just trust and not complete and absolute devotion. If only it’s just trust and not love that has a never-ending depth. If only it’s just trust and not dizzying, mind-boggling, fanatical yearning. If only it’s just trust, and not a silent worship of how her eyes are made of beautiful galaxies. If only he could say that to her. 

 

“Can you... can you please just stay with me? I’m exhausted. I’m really just... exhausted.” She moves the hand on his cheek to brush away a lock of his hair that falls in his face. Chat Noir turns to face her, and finds that they are in a very close proximity of each other. She doesn’t move away, and his heart skips a beat. Or two, or three. 

 

She smiles, and his world lights up. Her smile is brighter than all of Paris. “Of course,  _ mon petit chaton.  _ Of course I’ll stay.” Chat Noir gives a soft, closed-mouth smile that differs greatly from his usual cocky grin. 

 

He itches to put his hand on her waist and pull her in for a kiss. He wants to card his hands through her silky hair and taste vanilla and strawberries on her soft lips. He wants to press her small body against his own and cradle her in his arms. He wants to entwine their fingers and kiss her hand softly. 

 

Chat Noir’s reverie ends abruptly when he finds Ladybug’s hand waving back and forth in front of his face. “Hello? Chat Noir? You spaced out on me there.”  _ Ironic that you bring up space when you are made of stars and space and galaxies,  _ he thinks. 

 

“Huh?” She says.  _ Crap. I talked out loud, didn’t I?  _ He thinks again, and then frantically scrambles for a reasonable answer. 

 

“I - I - uh, did I say something?” His voice rises an octave pathetically at the end of his question. Chat Noir scratches his neck and looks away, feeling very nervous. 

Ladybug’s hand that has been on his back slides off, and he feels the absence strongly. “Yes, you did. Something about... irony, and me being space and stars and galaxies?” Chat Noir wants to squeak out a pathetic excuse and run away, but all it’ll do is stretch out the tension until he sees her again. 

 

“I, um... do you really want me to explain?” He says. He’s barely aware of the fact that he’s curling in on himself, with his arms wrapped around his torso and his ears flattening to his head. 

 

She gives him a glare that is borderline angry, and he goes on. He hates it when he makes his lady feel bad. 

 

But... it’s such a difficult concept to explain to her - the concept of how much he loves her and why, and how she means the whole universe to him. She may not understand his jumbled words or confusing sentences. She may not like what he says and could reject him. She may not receive the message that he loves her, passionately, fervently, intensely, yearningly, loyally, devotedly, earnestly, for as long as he’ll live. 

 

But he has to try. 

 

“Ladybug, I... I can’t really explain, not directly. But I’ll try to. It’s that you... you mean whole worlds to me. You mean the universe,  _ everything  _ to me. When I look at you, I see galaxies and constellations shining back at me. You burn so brightly, like a star in the night sky. You’re just so  _ beautiful,  _ Ladybug, and I’ve always thought so. Everything you do, whether it’s fight, joke, talk, help, make mistakes, or leave, it’s always  _ so beautiful _ . You’re not perfect, nobody is, but the way you aren’t perfect is beautiful. I - I love you, Ladybug, and I always have. I can never explain how much I love you, because words don’t encompass it all. And... I always feel more like myself as Chat Noir, but... when I’m with you, I’m  _ me,  _ completely and totally. You bring out a side of me nobody else ever gets to see. I love being with you, I love knowing you, I love  _ you.  _ More than anything else I’ve ever loved, and ever will. Even - even if I’m not your forever, you’re mine.” As he speaks, he makes gestures with his hands and looks at her eyes.

 

They’re filled with confusion, and fear.  

 

He’s ruined everything they had, hasn’t he?! He’s driven her away, and now she’ll never want to be his partner. Hadn’t he thought it was enough to be by her side? Didn’t he know she never had to love him back? Wasn’t he already decided on never telling her how he felt? 

 

Now he’s gone and driven the universe away from him. What would the universe want with one mangy cat? What would the universe want with somebody so broken? 

 

Ladybug still hasn’t said anything, and he curls back in on himself. His tail droops pathetically, and he bows his head. A sadness curls up in his stomach, so real it hurts, and he takes a step away. “I - I’m sorry, Ladybug. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, not like that. I should have known. I’ll... I’ll go now.” He turns away, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

 

Then he feels a hand at his arm, and he gets spun back around. Ladybug’s face is determined, and she opens her mouth to say something when her earring beeps. Chat Noir’s face goes from sad to worried, and he looks at her earrings. There’s only one spot left. “Why didn’t you tell me your earrings were running out?” 

 

“You didn’t hear any of the beeps, I guess, and you asked me to stay, so I... I did.” She has less than a minute left - how is she going to get down from the Eiffel Tower without him seeing her? And now, to add up onto his feelings of rejection and depression, he has guilt to go with it. All he’s been tonight is a nuisance to her, and now both the secrets they both never wanted to tell are going to come out. 

 

”I should go.” She says. The words sting, and Chat Noir shakes his head.

 

“What if you detransform while you’re in the middle of the air? It isn’t safe.” 

 

There is strain in her voice, and Chat Noir knows she’s worried. “I guess you’re... finally going to learn my secret.” She doesn’t sound very pleased about it. 

 

“I’ll... I’ll take you down to the bottom of tower, so you can leave as quickly as you want and maybe I won’t see you.” Sadness he didn’t want to show seeps into the ends of his words. 

 

“Okay. Just... don’t be disappointed if you learn who I am.” This is something Chat isn’t expecting to hear. 

 

“Disappointed? My lady, I could never be disappointed in you. You aren’t perfect, sure. You have flaws and you make mistakes. But that is what makes you...  _ you.  _ Your flaws make you who you are. If everyone was perfect, we’d all be the same. If you were perfect all the time, I’m sure I wouldn’t love you. But I love you for you, and your flaws only make you better. I don’t care who you are, under that mask, but all I know is that I love all of you.” Great. He’s only making it worse for himself. 

 

She doesn’t respond, so he tentatively grabs her around the waist and jumps on top of the rail, extending his staff until it reaches the ground and sliding down. He lands, and Ladybug starts to jog away immediately, but after only a few steps she stills and her shoulders tense.

 

Suddenly, there is a flash of pink light. Chat Noir hears a small squeak, and a red-and-black kwami falls into the hands of... Marinette. 

 

Marinette, the clumsy girl in his class. The one who destroys at video games. The one who can’t get out a single sentence to him, but can stand up to Chloe. The one who is the class president. The one who doesn’t like him for what he is, but for what he’s done. The one who, in hindsight, really has been Ladybug all along. 

 

He couldn’t be happier. 

 

A smile stretches on his face. “Marinette?” He murmurs. 

 

She has been looking at the ground, but now she looks up to his eyes. “How do you know my name?”

 

He envelopes her in a warm embrace. “Marinette,” He says again, choosing not to answer her inquiry. “Marinette, you’re amazing.” He releases the embrace. “I love you. I love all of you.” 

 

Her eyes look apprehensive. His smile weakens. 

 

Her first sentence causes it to drop completely. “I - I’m so sorry, Chat, but I... I don’t love you like that. I’m in love with somebody else.” There are no words that could have hurt him more. 

 

Tears well, but the mask keeps them from falling and the green tint of his eyes hide any sign of redness. “And w-who is it that is so deserving of my Lady’s love?” Even to him it sounds half-hearted.

 

Her eyes gain a far-away look in them, and she smiles gently. It’s beautiful. “Adrien... Adrien Agreste.” 

 

Chat Noir’s heart stops for a moment. He doesn’t utter a word, but shuts his eyes instead. 

 

_ Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.  _

 

She sighs, and wraps her hands together. “He’s just so... perfect.” 

 

_ No.  _

 

She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t love him. She loves a mask. She loves a fake. She doesn’t love the real him, the one that has stood devotedly by her side all along. She loves a facade that she barely even knows. 

 

Chat Noir thought just a moment ago that no words could hurt more than ‘I don’t love you’. He was wrong. What hurts more - much more - is that she believes he is perfect. 

 

The pain shines brightly in his eyes, and without realizing, he’s begun to shake. He cards a hand through his hair, and turns away for a moment. When he turns back, he bites his lip and gazes desperately at her. She looks confused. She doesn’t realize what she’s done. How could she? She doesn’t know who he is. She doesn’t know how he feels. 

 

So, in four words, four heart-wrenchingly emotional and sorrowful words, he changes everything. “ _ Adrien is Chat Noir.”  _ His voice sounds rough and thick, as if he’s about to cry. Which he is. 

 

She’s shocked for a moment, and then smiles. It looks like her whole world has come together for a moment - that it’s all clicked, that it’s alright, that she hasn’t just broken him. “It really is you? Adrien?” 

He nods, and chokes back a sob. He hates to make the ecstatic gleam in her eye fade, but what else can he do? “And you - you just said the worst thing. You said I’m... perfect. I  _ hate  _ that word.  _ I hate that.  _ I’m not perfect. I’m the opposite of perfect. But... nobody has gotten to know me well enough to see through that. Adrien is just a facade of perfection.  _ I am the real Adrien.  _ This is who I am, on the inside, and you don’t love the real me. You like somebody who’s pretend, somebody you barely even know. And I’m  _ sorry,  _ Marinette, but I can’t handle that. If you don’t love the real me, Chat Noir, then you don’t love me at all. If you could... leave me alone, that’d be great. Goodbye.” And then he runs off, into the night.

 

It isn’t until he gets home and transforms into Adrien that he cries. He lies in his bed until the sun rises, not having gotten a minute of sleep. There are tear streaks coating his face, making it feel tight and uncomfortable. Plagg is beside his bed, sleeping. For once, he hasn’t made a snarky comment or whined for cheese. He knows that it isn’t the right time - not when Adrien’s (Chat Noir’s) heart has been shattered.

* * *

 

 

Marinette watches Adrien run away, dressed as Chat Noir - or is the other way around? Is Adrien just Chat Noir, dressed up as a normal boy? 

 

She doesn’t understand. She loves him - isn’t that what he wants? Isn’t it good? 

 

But as she replays his words, all of them, she picks up new things that she has not realized before. How before, when he said that she isn’t perfect but he loves her for it, he had made so much sense. And how she went and contradicted that very ideal he has held so close to his heart.

 

His words are so beautiful - they craft galaxies, constellations, stars, endless suns together into a beautiful night sky. They build palaces, cathedrals, castles for her. He paints masterpieces before her very eyes. Each letter is a gem. Each sentence is a flame, burning bright in the dark. Each declaration of love is more beautiful than the next, and each reaches deeper than the bottom of the ocean and the top of the sky. She has fallen in love with his words. She has fallen in love with each emotion he pours so carefully into each word and each sentence. She has fallen in love with his crazy, tangled, beautiful metaphors. 

 

But she has done something wrong. She has called him perfect. She has hurt him, badly. 

 

It has become increasingly clear to her that he is a broken boy, with words and galaxies spilling out of his cracks. And she has fractured him only more. He’s her partner, her friend, her love! She should not hurt him. And yet, she has.

 

Marinette stands in front of the Eiffel Tower, tears pouring down her face as she understands just how much she wants to heal him. Just how much she admires him. Just how much she loves him. 

 

All of him. 

 

But her words do not fit together as well as his do - his words are strings that weave together to form intricate tapestries depicting scenes of glory and beauty. Hers are blocks that make crude towers. She stumbles over her words and sometimes knocks down the tower. And she has knocked down his tapestry too; she has ripped it apart and burned it into ashes. It is a guilt unlike any other. 

Tikki crawls up onto her shoulder and nuzzles into her neck. “Marinette, are you alright?” 

 

In between her tears, she gets out a hoarse reply. “N-No, Tikki, I’m -” She takes a big gulp of air - “I’m not alright, I just broke his heart! I feel so terrible, what if he hates me? W-What i-if he doesn’t ever want to talk to me ag-gain? Tikki, he said so many beautiful things to me and I broke it all a-apart.” She sobs, and Tikki flies up and brushes away one of her tears. 

 

“Marinette, if he really loves you, he’ll come back to you. You just have to make it up to him, don’t you? All you have to do is apologize and prove that you do love him, and that you understand now, okay?” Marinette doesn’t respond, and Tikki continues. “I’ve been alive for a long time, Marinette. Love is never easy. Love takes effort, and some people fail to prove to each other that they belong together. But you two were made for each other! You two were selected both for your admirable qualities and that you were compatible. You do belong together. You just have to show it to him. Let’s go, Marinette. You need some rest.”

 

“Do you have enough energy to transform?” Tikki smiles at her. 

 

“I’ll be fine. But I wouldn’t mind an extra cookie or two when we get home.” Marinette smiles back at Tikki and strokes her forehead before transforming and making her way home.

* * *

 

 

Marinette hops through her trapdoor and transforms back into herself. Tikki falls into her hands, and Marinette strokes her forehead with her thumb before setting a plate of cookies down on her desk and letting Tikki eat. 

 

Carefully, she takes down Adrien’s pictures from the wall. Each one is meticulously peeled off the wall and put in a pile that goes in the recycling. Marinette doesn’t rip them - she’s not angry, or upset with him. But the pictures feel shallow now. His words are so meaningful, and his emotions. If she really does want to prove that she feels the same way, she has to reach that same level. And idolizing him - estranging him - putting him on a level above her - is not the way to do so. 

 

She changes the background of Adrien on her computer to a picture of her and Alya instead. Magazines with Adrien’s face on them are cleaned up from where they are strewn on her desk and stacked regardfully in a drawer. Her room suddenly feels cleaner, although a little less homey. 

 

She spends all night posting drawings and designs on the walls where the pictures used to be, and printing out memories of her family and friends to put there as well. But she doesn’t want to exclude Chat Noir, so she prints out a picture of him and Adrien, and posts them next to each other above her bed. 

 

As Marinette works, she thinks of Chat Noir, and what he’s said. She thinks of herself too, and how she feels. She feels like she wants to make him happy. It’s all he deserves. She mulls over every reason, plans out every word, and comes up with ideas of how to make him understand like he did for her. 

 

Tikki helps her, flying tape and pictures over to her. By the time the sun comes up, Marinette is done with her work, and snoozing next to her bed. After barely an hour, Tikki wakes Marinette up for school, who is equal parts resolute, exhausted, and heartsick. 

 

It feels like it’ll be an okay day at the beginning. She comes into class barely a minute before the class starts - but Adrien isn’t there. 

 

She sits down next to Alya and sets down her books, staring at Adrien’s empty spot. Alya notices. “Missing Adrien?” Understatement. Marinette nods, and Alya seems to ponder something for a moment before leaning forward and poking Nino. “Is Adrien at a photoshoot? It’s not like him to miss school.” 

 

Nino shrugs. “I dunno. Adrien said he was free today, on, like, Monday, but he isn’t here. I tried to text him last night to see if he wanted to do anything, but he didn’t respond. I got no idea what’s up, but I can’t have my bro missing. We were gonna go to the arca-” Just then, the bell rings, and the teacher looks at Nino pointedly. He turns back to face the board, leaving Alya puzzled and Marinette guilty. 

 

Twenty minutes pass before Adrien stumbles in the door, looking exhausted. The bags under his eyes, which look unfamiliar, are very prominent against his otherwise  flawless (No, stop thinking like that! Clear, clear is a good word) skin. His eyes flick to Marinette for a moment before he stares back at the floor. Marinette shrinks in on herself a little bit and lets her bangs fall over her eyes. 

 

The teacher glares at him, and he makes his way over to his seat. Dread fills Marinette’s stomach as she realizes that she’ll be staring at the back of Adrien’s head all day - the very person who is causing such guilt to be felt. 

 

His hair is messy, and it reminds her of Chat Noir. He rakes a hand through it, and starts when Juleka slides a worksheet on to his desk. He then stares rather intensely at his paper, gripping his pencil with white knuckles, but doesn’t fill in any of the answers. Marinette looks at his other hand, laid out flat on the desk, and realizes that it’s shaking with little tremors. 

 

The class passes by quickly, and there is a small break in which the kids are allowed to talk. Instantly, Alya whips out her phone and begins to gush to Marinette. “Look! The picture is really blurry, but I was on my way home late last night from Nino’s house -” She spares a glance at the boy in question - “When I saw two people on the Eiffel Tower. And guess who it was?!” Alya doesn’t give Marinette time to reply to the question of which she already knows the answer. “Ladybug and Chat Noir! They were side-by-side, talking while all of Paris was laid out in front of them. Isn’t that so romantic?! I couldn’t ship them more if I tried.” She sighs at the end, and gazes at the pixelated picture of Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

 

Adrien makes a small choking sound, and gets up. The other three glance at him questionably. He doesn’t meet eyes with any of them. “I’m going to the - the bathroom.” He gets out, and then half-walks, half-runs out of the room. 

 

Marinette stares after him with wide eyes and then gets up. “I just remembered, I left my, uh, homework assignment in my locker. I’ll be right back.” She goes out of the room quickly, and immediately breaks into a run to catch up to Adrien, who is not far away at all. She lays a hand on his arm, and he jumps, subsequently ripping his arm out of her grasp. “Adrien,” She says desperately, “We have to talk.” 

 

A feeling akin to apprehensiveness (or fear?) shows quite clearly on his face. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing.” His words are cold, but his voice shakes. 

 

She gives him a look. “You know there is. Adrien, what I said, I -” He interrupts her. 

 

“No. No. You meant what you said. Spur of the moment responses are always the most honest, because you don’t have the time to lie. I told the truth. You told the truth. And that settles it. I don’t want to be with somebody who doesn’t love me. I don’t want to be a burden anymore. If I’m not a part of your life, then I can’t burden you. So I’m going to ask you again. Please, leave me alone. I d-don’t think I can handle it. ” A sound that sounds almost like a sob escapes his mouth on the ‘don’t’, and he looks down ashamedly. He covers his mouth with his palm, and then turns and continues on his way to the bathroom. 

 

Marinette stands, shocked, and remains in her spot in the hallway for a full minute before the bell breaks her almost trance. Then she goes back into the classroom, where Alya looks at her with surprise shining freshly in her eyes. “What was that about?” 

 

Marinette realizes with a jolt that the whole exchange has occurred in front of the windows directly on Alya’s left. With relief, she notes that Alya must not have heard what had happened since she is asking about it, but she definitely saw Adrien run away looking like he was about to cry. And saw Marinette say coherent sentences to him, a stark contrast from only yesterday. 

 

Worriedly, she sees that the whole class is looking at her - meaning they saw it too. Oh, what is she going to say?! Tikki shifts around in her purse, and Marinette takes comfort in the fact that she has at least one person - well, kwami - on her side for sure.

 

“I - uh - I - um...” She trails off, thinking desperately for any possible lie. Finally, she makes a connection, and murmurs it to Alya, careful to stay out of earshot of Chloe. “Adrien, well, he found out that I gave him the blue scarf instead of his dad. He was upset, to say the least, and things between him and his dad are tough right now from what I heard.” She feels guilt gnaw at her stomach. “Don’t tell Adrien I said anything to you. Nobody else is supposed to know. Yeah, just... don’t mention it at all.” At least Adrien won’t find out about the scarf, if they’re careful. 

 

Alya nods, but says: “We’re talking about this later, girl.” 

 

Marinette fiddles with her pencil and resigns herself to a day tinged with sadness.

* * *

 

 

The night is cold. The previous evening had been comfortably warm, showing how close to summer they are edging. But tonight is chilly, sending goosebumps down Marinette’s arms as she flies through the air, transformed. 

 

She goes to their usual spot first, hoping he is there. After waiting a few minutes, he does not show up, and she cannot sense his presence like she usually can. She departs, and zips across the city to the Eiffel Tower, but he is nowhere to be found. When she reaches the top of the tower, she calls him, but he does not pick up and she cannot hear ringing from anywhere. She calls twice more for good measure before concluding that he is either on the other side of the city, or not transformed at all. 

 

Marinette wastes no time going to the Agreste mansion, and peers through the window to see if he is there. She sees nobody. The light is on, and a window is open. Marinette hopes that he left it open for her, but she knows from experience that it is often warm in there and it’s likely that Adrien wanted fresh air. But she does not waste the opportunity completely. 

 

She pokes her head into the room, though she does not enter it. She’s not welcome here, and it would be incredibly rude of her just to come in without even knowing if he’s inside, or if he wants to see her at all. She listens carefully for any sound, in case he is indeed in the house, but her efforts yield none of the desired results. There is no sound of the shower running, or of footsteps, either. 

 

She calls him again, and this time hears ringing. Quickly, she turns in the direction of the sound and jumps away, hearing it from somewhere above. Marinette flips onto the roof of the mansion, only to find the very person she’s been looking for standing, tense, on the rooftop. 

 

She reaches out a hand for him and he flinches back infinitesimally. “Why are you here?” He says in a thick voice, and it sounds as if Chat is crying. Or has been. 

 

Marinette takes a small step toward him. “I want to talk to you. I want to make things right between us, kitty.” His green eyes are distrustful, which she hates. She trusts him as much as she trusts her own parents, if not more. 

He shakes his head. “No.” There’s a tremor in his hand again. 

 

A flash of determination shines in her eyes. “Yes. I want to fix this. I want to be happy. I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy together. Why can’t you let me fix this? Why can’t you let me make it better?”

 

He only bites his lips and rakes his hand through his hair. A sob racks his body, and he turns away. 

 

She takes another step toward him. “Don’t you deserve to be happy?” It’s said quieter this time. 

 

He doesn’t answer her question, only takes a step back. “Not here. Not - not here.” 

 

She understands, at least partly. It’s on top of his house. He needs to be able to run away from her, far away, and this is the only place he can come back to. She’ll let him if he does decide to run. 

 

Marinette turns to the Eiffel Tower. “Shall we continue where we started?” 

 

They find themselves at the top again, but this time Chat Noir is staring very pointedly away from her. She frowns, letting herself wallow for a moment, before taking lead of the conversation. 

 

“Chat.” She says. He doesn’t respond. “Chat,” She says again, louder, and turns to look at him. He meets her eyes for a moment.

 

“Please. Let me fix us. Let me help you. I want you to be  _ happy, _ ” She repeats. 

 

He turns. “No. No. No, I don’t get it.” 

 

Marinette grabs his shoulder and spins him back around. “Why? Why won’t you let me do this? You deserve this, you deserve to understand why you were wrong before.” 

 

Chat Noir seems to snap. “No! I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve this, or you. I’m not as smart or brave or handsome or funny or nice or good as I should be, as I have to be. You made that clear to me yesterday. I’m not good enough for my mother, my father, or, as it seems, you. Please, stop trying. I’m not worth your time. I am  _ worthless.  _ All of Paris knows it. They all know that you’re better. Everyone - I mean  _ everyone -  _ would choose Ladybug over Chat Noir. Nobody wants the real me, and Adrien... everyone loves Adrien. Everybody thinks Adrien is so perfect, when he’s just a goddamn  _ mask.  _ In the end, I don’t matter. In the end, I’m worthless. In the end, I’ll always be chosen last. That’s the way it is. And you shouldn’t bother with me, because I’m worth absolutely nothing. I know it. I want you to be happy more than I want  _ me  _ to be happy. So just stop trying to love me, because it’ll never work out for you.” 

 

Marinette doesn’t hesitate to respond. “That’s unfair, because I do love you. I don’t have to try. I don’t have to pretend. I love you. I think that you’re amazing, and brave, and funny, and smart, and nice, and handsome too. I wasn’t thinking when I said what I said. Your flaws make you who you are, and I love your flaws. I love you. I love you and your beautiful words. I want to be with you. I want to fix what I broke and I want to make you happy. You deserve it, you’re just too modest to see it. I want you to understand just how wonderful you are.” She takes a step toward him, stroking his cheek with her hand. 

 

He closes his eyes and sighs. “But look how mean I was to you when you were trying to fix things.” 

 

She pays no mind. “But look how hurt you were when I said I didn’t love you. We’ve both made mistakes, kitty.” 

 

“But... I could have done the same to you. What if you confessed to me as Marinette? I would have been so dumb. I could have easily done the same thing, and rejected you. It’s not fair.” 

 

“Like I said. We’re both not perfect. We both have flaws, and make mistakes. Sometimes we both can be blinded by our own emotions. But it makes us who we are.” 

 

By now, their faces are so close that their noses are almost touching. He whispers: “Say it again.” 

 

Her eyes slide shut. “I love you, Chat Noir.” 

 

His mouth is so close she can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks. “I love you, Marinette.” 

 

They both move to lock lips, and the world seems to shift, just slightly. It feels... right. It’s not perfect, but it’s beautiful, and that is what matters. 

  
  



End file.
